


Time After Time

by RedEmerald



Series: Make Yourself A Home [3]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Like a lot of angst especially in the first chapters, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-03-08 03:26:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13449546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedEmerald/pseuds/RedEmerald
Summary: Credence has been living with Newt for almost a year now. Things aren't always easy, between living away from New York, trying to learn magic and having to be ready to travel across the world at all times. Oh and there's feelings too. So many feelings...





	1. Guided By A Beating Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 3 of Make Yourself A Home. It can most likely be understood without reading the two other parts. (Part 1 is about what happens after the events of Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them, and part 2 is an OS that's closer to a filler than a real story but still provides informations about Credence and Newt's relationship and what they've been up to.)
> 
>  
> 
>  **Important note** : there will be hints at depression and anxiety, at least in the first chapters. There are also references to canon compliant past violence and abuse (from the events in the movie). Reader's discretion is adviced. 
> 
>  
> 
> Finally, this story is dedicated to the lovely Shay and Luna who keep helping me and supporting me everyday. I am more thankful that I could ever tell you!
> 
>  
> 
> The chapter title comes from Avicii's "Wake Me Up". The story title is obviously a reference to Cindy Lauper's song aka the best song of all times.

**January**

 

Credence was back in the church. Piles of dank wood and broken stones surrounded him. He was dreaming, that he was sure of: he’d been having the same dream for over a year now. That didn’t make it easier to live through, especially because the dream was about things he very carefully avoided thinking about when he was awake.  
  
As always, he was standing in the middle of the ruins, just like that day. And as always, a hand fell on his shoulder. The next part varied. In the nicest utterances of the dream, it was Tina or Queenie, sometimes both, that stood behind him. They would smile, and hug him, and tell him they missed him, and he’d wake up to the bittersweet feeling of homesickness. On playful nights, it was Newt, who’d take his hand and promise him adventures. All sorts of adventures, that left Credence hot and bothered in his bed, incapable to meet his friend’s eye for a few hours. Not that Newt would notice that anyway.  
  
What terrified Credence, were the other variations of the dream. In one, Mary Lou was there. She had broken bones that angled her neck in a disturbing way, and a revengeful look. She had a belt in each hand, and yelled in Credence’s direction that she’d kill him the same way he killed her. The ruins would start falling onto Credence as she whipped the belts around her. Some nights, she was accompanied by Henry Shaw Junior, who promised him to make sure he’d go to Hell.

  
The most horrible ones were the ones where Grindelwald was there, not under a disguise but as himself, the wickedly grinning man Credence had seen on posters all around Europe. His chilling stare didn’t leave Credence for a minute, as he explained how useful and powerful his Obscurus could be for him. Maybe the worst part was the fact that Credence didn’t feel his Obscurus during those times. It wasn’t just that it didn’t manifest to protect him, he couldn’t even feel its presence, and that made him feel weak and tiny in front of Grindelwald.

  
The last occurrence of the dream, the one Credence hated and dreaded the most was the one where Grindelwald still had Mr. Graves’ appearance. He hated that his night terror still smiled with the same tenderness. He hated that it still made his heart jump and his stomach clench. He hated that it was the one dream where he always died because he never refused to be held by the other man. He hated that he always woke up from that dream in tears that he couldn’t quite explain.

That night was different though, because the hand that fell on his shoulder also shook him out of sleep. He jumped back into his skin and blinked furiously a few times, trying to remember where he was. Nothing looked like his bedroom or anywhere else in the tiny apartment where he had been living on and off with Newt for the past six months. The bed didn’t even feel the same.

  
  
-Get dressed, the shadow of Newt told him before disappearing in the hallway.

  
  
Credence frowned and stayed sitting in bed for a moment. Where was he ? Not in the suitcase either... New York, his brain eventually provided. And the date was the second of January. Or maybe the third, considering he had no idea what time it was. He’d come back to celebrate the New Year with Tina and Queenie and -finally- meet Jacob. And he was staying in a hotel for a couple more days before leaving.

 

* * *

  
  
On any other occasion, Credence would have been happy to see Newt. They had separated a couple weeks earlier, when Newt had gone back to his family, or rather to his mother, for Christmas, and Credence had decided to go travel on his own. He'd gone to the Arctic, and celebrated Yule by himself  under the northern lights. It had been the most surreal and intense experience of his life, despite the drastic turn it had taken just a year earlier. He had stayed outside until the spells he had used to protect himself wore off. He had then spent a couple days in a small fishermen town, sharing Christmas wishes and copious meals, before travelling to New York.

 

* * *

  
  
Coming back had been easier than he imagined. Maybe because he had spent a full twelve months away, and wasn't there for the anniversary of that night. Or maybe because he had people whom he had missed and who had missed him. Tina and Queenie had come to fetch him when he left the boat and it had felt like he only left the day before. They had barely changed, except for the smiles on their faces. Queenie had hugged him and promised him hot cocoa and the best meals until he'd explode, her hands, frozen from having been outside too long waiting for him to arrive, gently cupping his face. Tina had simply buried her face in his hair and hugged him so strongly he had felt his exhaustion and homesickness melt away. It had felt like family and it had felt like coming back home.

 

* * *

  
  
Credence didn’t think about complaining about Newt dragging him out of bed before they were both outside. It wasn’t the first time Newt had decided to leave on a whim and bring Credence with him. Once, he even decided to go to Germany over lunch. And they went. Newt followed his instinct to a fault when it came to his job. So if he felt like he had a chance to observe something rare or new, he’d just portkey there in the minute. However, that was the very first time he’d woke Credence in the middle of the night.  
  
Credence was cold. But again, when wasn’t he cold this days ? It was as if his bones had once learned about ice and freezing stones and decided to be just that. Once… When he was awake, the church and Mary Lou felt like a lifetime ago. Maybe he felt that way because the Obscurus loved the cold. It thrived in it. The Arctic had been a field trip for it. The northern wind blew through the streets, insinuating under the layers of clothes he’d been smart enough to accumulate despite his groggy state.

  
  
-Where are we going, he asked, and his voice sounded a lot like a whimper.

  
  
He didn’t deal all that well with being awake in the middle of the night. Newt simply smiled and that started to scare Credence. That wasn’t the kind of things that promised warmth and comfort. That looked an awful lot like hiking and numbness.

  
  
-Newt…  
-I'm sorry but I couldn't wait tomorrow, I just had to bring you there, I promise it's very close to here  and then you can get back to sleep but I couldn't sleep, and I couldn't think of anything else.

Newt was uncharacteristically energised that night, and that had Credence frowning. It took him an instant to remember that Newt wasn't in New York when he had left Tina and Queenie the previous evening.

-Did you... Did you just arrive?  
-What? Oh, maybe...

Newt suddenly paused and looked around.

-Oh dear... It's awfully late, isn't it?

  
Credence fought back the smile that started spreading on his lips. If he let it, it'd turn into hysterical laughter and he wouldn't know how to explain his amusement to Newt. Poor man looked completely lost in the middle of the street. He probably had portkey'd a few minutes earlier without checking the time and gone to fetch Credence. How he had interpreted Credence being asleep, that would probably stay a mystery...

-Maybe we should wait until tomorrow, Newt said, deflating.

His good mood and enthusiasm were so visibly pouring out of him that Credence felt his heart break a bit and his resolve falter.

-Well... I'm awake and we're out now. I guess we don't have to go back right now.

Credence pretended to check his pockets for his watch so he could avoid Newt's expression. He wasn't sure what he wanted to see there.

 

* * *

  
  
Newt took him to the nearby underground station and simply shot him a look to ask him if he agreed to follow him. Credence simply nodded at the silly question. He would follow him to hell, metaphorical or not. A train under the street wasn't that bad, especially considering that he didn't remember much about what happened last time he was there. It was were he'd met Newt, and that was the major part of what he could picture now. That night felt so far away, so hazy; the Obscurus had been the one leading his body around and most of the pain dissolved in the explosion that almost killed him.  
  
They were alone in the station, which comforted Credence in the idea that it was indeed very late. He didn't manage to find his watch, and suspected he must have left it with yesterday's clothes in his hotel room.

-The only train I've taken before was the one taking me to school, Newt said after a few minutes of silence.

He seemed uncomfortable all of the sudden, as if feeling guilty he woke Credence up. Credence didn't mind anymore.

-To Hogwarts, Credence simply asked.

The name still felt weird as it rolled off his tongue – it tasted like missed memories and opportunities, things he might have experienced if the circumstances had been difference.

-Correct, Newt smiled. The Hogwarts Express. Leaving from King's Cross station every First of September.

The words were tangled with nostalgia and Newt's gaze was a bit distant.

-Where are we going, Credence asked once again.  
-Somewhere none of us has been yet, Newt said.

He was grinning again and Credence could see the excitement bubbling up again in his brain.

-And where would that be, he sighed.

Newt visibly pondered on telling him or not his plan, but finally decided to do good by Credence and started speaking.

-I know how much you appreciate Diagon Alley and I when I wrote to Tina, very recently, I couldn't help but wonder why there isn't such a place in New York... But I was wrong, and there is one. I didn't get the chance to visit it, and neither did you since you had to stay in and hide.

Credence didn't hear much more from Newt after that, his friend's voice a white noise next to his left ear, as he had to stop himself from bouncing up and down on his heels in excitement.

 

* * *

  
  
The hidden Wizarding community was accessible via a specific train line that only circulated during the night. Muggle repulsive spells were used to stop them from ever learning about the presence of this train. From the train station near to Credence's hotel, it only took them ten minutes to arrive. The train station itself was spelled out of existence too.  
  
Contrary to Diagon Alley, the American community had chosen to build its shopping area under the streets rather than behind them. Credence barely heard Newt explaining how the avenues and boulevards opening before him were mirror images to those under the sky.

-There even is an equivalent to Central Park here. I think there might be unicorns. We'll have to come back and check it out, Credence!

 

* * *

  
  
Despite the hour, the streets were crowded with busy wizards and witches. The sounds of chatting and stomping filled the air and resonated on the high cavernous ceilings. The streets had actually been built far before the underground, Newt explained, when the Wizarding Community had decided to isolate themselves from the Muggle one, sometime around the Salem trials. They then had been modified as time went by, to resemble the ones on the ground level.  
  
Newt showed Credence the portkey station he arrived in, a few feet away from the train station. Groups of people were appearing at carefully calculated times, and Credence amused himself with the vision of an uncomfortable Newt clutching at his case and trying not to make eye contact with anyone while a single one of his fingers touched an empty milk bottle.  
  
Walking down the street felt both overwhelming and reassuring, the number of people around was big enough to give them a feeling of invisibility, but not invulnerability as they kept bumping into passers-by. The shops were colourful, lit up by a mix of bright electric street light outside and traditional oil lamps and candles inside; the red façade of a potion shop rested against the lime green of a robes shop and a purple house separated itself from the others by the golden paint that created swirls on the sides and advertised the wand shop on the first floor. When they passed down the large window where were displayed wands and cases, Credence all but jumped.

-That's... Where I got my wand, isn't it?

Newt not so discretely bit back a smile.

-It is. Tina told me you entered by the back door. Most places here have two doors, one that open on this street and one to the surface. She was sorry she kept it a secret from you, but it felt too dangerous to tell you just yet…

 

Credence simply nodded. He understood the feeling. Tina was someone ready to take charge and make difficult choices. It still felt stunning to think that while Credence was inside the shop, there had been a busy wizarding street just on the other side of the wall. He had assumed it was simply a shop that muggles couldn't see or get near, not that it belonged to an entire hidden community.  
  
They continued walking for a while, admiring the diversity of shops, restaurants and habitations. Credence watched, fascinated, a shopkeeper introduce new brooms and flying carpets to potential buyers. Further down the street, three different shops offered muggle or wizarding fashions at different prices. Credence took note to come back later that week, as he needed a new jumper and there was one on display that he liked and could afford. A few minutes later, they entered a bookshop and Newt had to look far and low to find his own book. “It’s just a matter of curiosity, and checking if it is available everywhere”, the blushing man defended himself as Credence snickered softly.

 

It was probably early morning when they decided to sit and get some food from a small club. The street were still full of people, though some were starting to leave for work on the surface. As they sat down, Credence noticed how similar to Diagon Alley the whole place felt and how easily he could start feeling at home here.


	2. All Seems Golden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence adaptated very well to London. Really, he did. Kind of...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from "Your Town" by LP which is basically the soul of this chapter. If you want to hear the heart of this chapter, I'd recommend you listen to "Strange Home" by Sons Of An Illustrious Father.

**February**  

 

In London, Credence shared a small apartment with Newt. Situated about twenty minutes from the Leaky Cauldron, it was a two-bedrooms, too square flat with barely enough windows to let the sun in. It was also facing North, which insured it was freezing cold no matter the season.

Newt didn’t spend as much time there as Credence, who had decided to stop living out of a suitcase and liked seeing the street outside when he woke up; the second bedroom had therefore been turned into a study, with books Newt didn’t want to carry around and all sorts of feathers, scales and animal hair in bottles, boxes and jars that probably contained marmalade some time ago and still emitted a vague sweet smell. Credence’s favourite item in Newt’s room was the large world map that took most of the wall next to the door and opposite the single window. The parchment it had been drawn on had grown soft overtime and rolled a bit at the corners, which prompted either men to distractingly re-apply a sticking spell every couple weeks when they walked by it. Newt had stuck pictures and drawings of animals he had seen or was looking forward to study all over it, as well as bits and pieces of paper with coordinates or quotes giving clues as to where he should search. Newt’s handwriting served as a proof of time passing and the dedication he had for his work, going from round and large -still childish- to small and messy -busy, hasty. It was the one object that described Newt the best, Credence always thought. Far more than the ever well-made bed facing it from the other side of the room and that constantly looked cold and unslept in.

 

* * *

 

One thing Credence definite loved about the place was its proximity with Diagon Alley. There, there was always some shop owner who needed another pair of hands to unpack their goods or a quick feather to take the inventory. As Newt’s official assistant, he received a small amount of money each month from the Ministry, but it wasn’t enough to pay for both his part of the rent and the common spendings that being alive created. He also needed to fill up his time in London, when Newt was confined to his study or the Ministry for days on end without anything Credence could do to help.

He could very well aparate in the Alley by now, but he most often than not chose to go by foot. The agitation of London felt both very much like that of New York, and extremely foreign at the same time. Something in the accents and the lack of crispness in the cold: even when there was no fog, water still seemed to be filling the air, seeping through his clothes and sticking to his skin for long moments after he got inside.

  
  
Somewhere on the way was a church.  
Credence was usually careful to avert his eyes, to busy himself in thoughts, when he walked by. The concept of it was far scarier than the actual building, which was objectively a fine piece of architecture. It was much older than the one Credence had known all his life, made of clear stone rather than decaying wood. It had been built at a time when people were trying to reach out to God when they were building places of faith, and its roof went up and up to the clouds and heavens, like a child’s hand thrown up in hope to be caught and held and hugged. The tallness of it embraced the houses and shops around in its shadow, and that might just be what made Credence so uneasy: if God's house could protect buildings, could it protect him too? And was he still worth protecting, when he didn't set foot in a church or went to a mass even a single time  for a year? He kept praying: in the morning when he woke up and at night when he went to bed, with the same immutability as bells ringing the hours.

 

That day, he couldn't stop himself from watching it. The winter light coloured it a soft yellow as the sun was falling towards dusk, and shadows were already growing longer on the pavement and around the windows. His hands itched and he couldn't tell if it was from the cold or his desire to open the doors and get in. Before he could think about it, he had crossed the street and was standing at the bottom of the few steps that lead to the doors. His breath was long and slow, forming puffs of steam out of his flushed nose and chilling down his throat. He blinked slowly, unsure of what to do. His questioning was thankfully interrupted by a hand resting on his arm.

Tina gently wrapped her arms around his, letting her head fall on his shoulder. She pouted sadly, her frown drawing wrinkles on her forehead, her eyes only warmth and concern, and love. She looked much smaller here than she did in New York. Part because Credence felt much taller than he did in New York, and part because, here, they were both as lost and scared when something out of the ordinary happened. Credence considered apologizing for how he must be worrying her, but that would probably only upset her more, so he settled for slowly squeezing one of her gloved hand and forcing a smile.

 

-Do you want to go in, Tina asked.

 

She sounded prudent and Credence smiled a bit more frankly at that.

 

-No, not yet. Not today, he answered.

 

And if his voice croaked a bit, none of them commented as they watched the building for a bit longer.

 

* * *

 

Tina had arrived almost two weeks earlier to help the British Aurors looking for Grindelwald, who had escaped during his transfer overseas. It was still unsure if his disappearance was his decision or if he’d been kidnapped by a rogue Auror looking for revenge. Upon his arrival by portkey, an explosion had knocked all the Aurors that were supposed to guard him out; American and British had all been unconscious for more than half an hour not matter what the Mediwizards did. When they had finally awakened, Grindelwald appeared to be the only one missing. Tina’s team was investigating to find out what exactly happened and if no one had used the confusion to leave and come back. The fear of traitors was there, strong as ever. And Tina hadn't said anything about it, but Credence could guess that with what happened to Mr Graves, there had to be more suspicions of double agents than ever.

 

When Tina had been assigned to go overseas, Queenie had tried to come with, but no one had accepted the case she made of her sister needing her. Sure, Tina could have used a Legilimens, but that was an argument that would have put them both in a delicate situation. So the younger Goldstein had stayed in New York, not without giving her sister pages upon pages of letter to deliver to their friends, and Credence could picture her fuming in front of a closing door as Tina apologized a thousand times for leaving her behind.

Truth was, though, that even if Credence missed Queenie as strongly as if he was missing his own heart, he was also relieved she wasn’t there. The turmoils that inhabited him after the scene at the church wasn’t something he would have wanted to subject her to, nor did he want to talk about it with her. Tina’s presence was far more soothing in those circumstances. She knew how to be a silent supporter, a physical crutch, a tangible friend. She didn’t pry on his thoughts like Queenie could, but she didn’t avoid him in fear he might need space like Newt. Tina was exactly the friend he needed that day, and Credence was thankful for her entire existence.

 

* * *

 

Tina had taken Newt and Credence’s invitation to stay with them rather than at in a hotel room the Ministry could have given her. The tiny bed in Newt’s study was finally of use. Newt himself had moved his suitcase to the living room. Sometimes Credence wondered if he regretted taking him in, if he wouldn’t be happier without an address and an assistant. He wondered so even more as Newt had barely been home at all in the past few days, excusing himself to the Ministry early in the morning and not coming back before Credence was asleep. Or so he thought as Credence had heard him and Tina talk when they thought Credence couldn't hear. Not that he actually could listen to them as the door was closed and they were talking too low, but the sentiment was there. He had awakened more than once to their muffled voices, and he'd stayed petrified in bed, his stomach twisting dreadfully as he overheard what sounded like his name.

It would take him some time to go back to sleep but once he'd managed to, the whole thing would feel like a distant dream.

 

* * *

 

-Newt's awfully busy, eh, Tina remarked while bringing her fork to her mouth.

 

Credence simply shrugged at that. They had escaped the cold of the early night into the Leaky Cauldron. Tina had decided to try every dish on the menu while she was there and, if she was still weary of the pea soup that Credence was having despite his claims that it was warm and filling, she seemed to have enjoyed everything else so far. Her plate of cottage pie was already half emptied and her cheeks had regained some of the colours the wind had managed to wash away. Her ankles were locked with his under the table and provided a grounding warmth.

 

-He's got a book to promote. There's been talks about making it a school reading next year and that's important for Newt.

-Don't you feel too alone?

 

Tina’s voice was threaded with concern and Credence cracked a smile at that.

 

-But you're here!

 

His tone had been exaggeratedly excited enough that she'd know he was half joking. Tina still rolled her eyes at that.

 

-You know what I mean!

-I'm not sure I do, he admitted. I keep busy, I made friends on Diagon Alley. And you _are_ here.

 

The friends part might have been a bit embellished as he wasn't sure if the acquaintances he'd made could really qualify as friends. But Tina was visibly concerned with his well-being and he wasn't about to make her worry more. What was it Newt said about worrying? Something about suffering more than once… Credence definitely didn't want Tina to suffer in any way.

 

-Don't you wish he'd spend more time with you?

-He's working hard…

 

Maybe he was missing the times when he had Newt's undivided attention, sure. And maybe he'd been a bit sad when Newt had said that Credence didn't seem to need his teaching for his studies anymore, that Credence could now work on his progress on his own. But he wasn't about to throw a tantrum or make Newt feel bad about that. Tina’s gazed deeply into his eyes and he knew she could feel he was hiding something.

 

-I don't doubt that but I don't think… I don't think that's why he isn't here…

 

Tina's voice was soft and hesitant, and she looked at Credence from under her lashes as if she was gauging his reaction. Credence blinked. Both her words and her attitude confused him. Was she insinuating that Newt was lying to them, that he used his work as an excuse to avoid him? He could feel his whole body slouching on itself as he put his head in his hand. He had read somewhere that proper etiquette commanded elbows to never touch the table, but he didn't feel like being perfectly polite and well-mannered right then and there. He watched as Tina's eyes widened almost comically at that.

 

-Maybe I should stay at the Ministry for the rest of the investigation.

 

Credence's eyebrow shot up. Why would she do that? What did it have to do with anything?

 

-Why?

 

Tina's lips curled into a teasing smile at Credence's childish and whining tone but her answer stayed serious.

 

-I think I make Newt quite uncomfortable…

-That's ridiculous!

 

Newt loved Tina. He could talk for hours about how she was one of the rare friends he made on his own, without any influence from his job or his family. If Credence were to be totally honest one day, he would have to admit that he was a bit jealous of how highly and adoringly Newt spoke of her. Tina opened her mouth as if to speak but chose to softly brush her hand through a few strands of Credence's hair instead. There was something sisterly and tender in her gesture that had his stomach clenching and brought him close to tears. He swallowed harshly around the lump in his throat.

 

-Newt is such an idiot, Tina smiled.

 

* * *

 

Credence had no way of knowing if Newt had come home that night. Everything was dark in the flat and the suitcase was on the coffee table, where it was that morning when Tina and him left. Credence was tempted to knock on it, at least to warn they were back, but he couldn't gather the courage or the will to do that. If Newt didn't want to see him, he should just leave him be. He would come back eventually. Or tell Credence that he didn't want him around anymore face to face.

 

Tina and Credence had stayed in the living room for a few more hours, sitting across the other on the couch, legs tangled under a blanket, as they drank cups of coffee and listened to the radio until they were both yawning so loud they made each other giggle. It had felt like being in the Goldsteins’ apartment all over again.

 

But now Credence was tossing and turning in his twin sized bed that suddenly felt too big for him.

It took him admittedly a bit too long to leave his bed when his instincts had been calling him out since he turned off the lights. Leaving his bed never felt that easy in the morning. He crossed the room almost in complete silence, a skill he had picked up working with Newt and learning to listen to his Obscurus. His pajamas pants, a bit too long, brushed on the wooden floor, a low noise he was most likely the only one to hear. The door barely clicked when he turned the handle, and opened on the total darkness of the rest of the apartment. It was daunting. Calling. Comforting. Some days, everything seemed better in the dark, calmer, more real even.

Going to the suitcase seemed too easy, the way only forbidden things could ever be. And even pinching the locks open felt more instinctive than practiced at this point, he'd repeated the gesture so many times before and could do in his sleep if necessary by now. Entering the suitcase was always the most difficult part. Newt insisted it stayed on the coffee table as it made going out of it easier, which Credence could agree on. But it made going in clumsy, as he had to step over the table, pivot and find the first step of the ladder, all at the same time.

Descending was both effortless and nerve-wracking, as he felt like he knew the ladder by heart but a single misstep could get him hurt. Or heard.

 

The cabin was just as dark as the apartment outside had been. Either Newt was out, or he was already asleep. Credence resisted the curiosity of checking Newt’s bedroom. That wouldn’t be right. Newt was allowed his privacy. His fingers still hitched to open the door, and he resisted the image of the smile Newt could have upon seeing him, that his memory provided to try and trick him into going in. Instead, he went to what was his bedroom when they weren’t in London.

Credence didn’t remember when he last slept in that bed. It must had been some point in November, or maybe early December. It was still perfectly made. The red blanket was still as soft and warm as the first night he had slept under it, all those months ago. The pillow still smelled of the soap Newt used to do the laundry, and a small, perfectly round dent on the side against the wall showed that the Niffler had stopped his mischieves for a nap sometime ago. Another set of pajamas, white with little blue stripes, was neatly folded at the feet of the bed. Credence’s mouth twisted at them, and before he could register what he was doing, he had changed outfits. Those weren’t too long. They didn’t fall weirdly over his shoulders, because he didn’t buy them on his own without knowing what his size was. Those had been bought by Queenie and had pockets where she would hide sweets and cookies during the day for him to find at night. They had a small hole on the right sleeve where his thumbnail had nervously scratched during sleepless nights. And if he closed his eyes and focused very strongly, he could still smell Tina’s perfume on the collar from the day she had worn them by accident. No matter how many times he washed them, the smell still came back.

Lying in this bed didn’t require any energy or effort, and the covers didn’t feel too heavy nor too light. Credence’s head had barely touched the pillow that he was deeply and soundly asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Don't hesitate to leave a comment or a kudo if you liked this chapter. It gives me life!
> 
> You can also come find me on tumblr @bluemoon-golden.


	3. Till You Can Breathe On Your Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence and Newt attend a party in the Ministry. Unfortunately it isn't as boring as they expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for anxiety and more or less obvious references to past abuse. 
> 
> The title comes from "Keeping Your Head Up" by Bird.

**March**

The room was as large as the ceiling was high, but still the guests managed to fill it up to the point that they were constantly bumping into each other. The only other time Credence had gone to a reception such as this one had been for the release of Newt's book, the previous October. That had been an advertising event rather than a party, destined to show how well this one Ministry employee had worked in the past few years, how cleverly the public’s money was spent, and how much could be learned from Newt's research so please do fund the Ministry dear guests. All sorts of people had come, all for business purposes; even the school representatives from Hogwarts: deputy headmaster Dipper and Transfiguration professor Dumbledore, who were there looking to create a partnership with Newt. Maybe even start some new courses about magical creatures, had they told Newt and Credence, and would he like to come to school and give the Seventh Years a few lessons, around the end of the school year?

It had been a boring night for Credence. He only really knew Newt, and barely knew of some other people. If he dared introduce himself as Newt's assistant, he was either ignored in the minute, as if not being a “real” magizoologist (nevermind that Newt was the first and only magizoologist in Britain) turned him invisible, or asked about his accent, and how did he meet Mister Scamander, and how different were things in America from there, and what school did he go to… Only questions he couldn't or wouldn't answer without lying…

 

* * *

  
  


But that night was different. That night was an actual party, organised by the Ministry itself, and it marked the start of the social season. Just like the Spring equinox marked the end of the worse of the cold season, this first event ended the stillness of winter, when people had been recovering from Christmas and New Year's extravaganza. Two and a half months of meeting in small assemblies for tea and gossips had made most of the high Wizarding society eager to meet again, to parade their new robes, to start planning gatherings and arranging new marriages. The room was buzzing with excites energy and the rustling of expensive fabrics.

 

Credence's party robes weren't anywhere as comfortable as what he would usually wear, which always annoyed him, especially considering how expensive they were. He was used to tired pants  (“trousers” Newt would exclaim, scandalised) that had seen more of the world than most people in this room could ever dream of, and to oversized jumpers he had acquired from his friends’ wardrobes. Robes weren't even an article of clothing he wore on a weekly basis, what with walking around in mud and woods. Plus with all the exercise that came zither being Newt's assistant, and the richer diet he had been having in the past year, his body kept changing, getting stronger and larger. There would come a time, sooner rather than later, when he would have to get new robes, despite the fact that he had barely worn those at all.

Newt wasn't much more comfortable than him, either either with the dress code or the socialising in general, but he was better at pretending. Upon coming, he had told Credence that his mother would throw such parties every summer, and attend some more with him and his brother. If he didn't like them more then than he did now, at least he knew how to have people believe he did. It was all about smiling and keeping a glass in hand, he told Credence.

And that is exactly what they had been doing since they arrived, standing in a corner of the room, close enough to the agitation that they could see the party-goers dance, but far enough that no one would try to invite them. Some of Newt's acquaintances would come say hello, exchange a few words and go back to the dance floor. Or the bar. Credence was almost having fun. Newt was in the middle of telling Credence about some employer he had to argue for hours on end just to be let inside the elevators some time ago when a call interrupted him:

  
  


-Newton Scamander?!

  
  


Credence recognized Leta Lestrange right away, from having seen her picture so many times in Newt’s case. That picture did not do her any justice, and standing there, smiling delightfully, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever met. The delicate strands of her that formed a complicated hairdo framed her face like strings pulled from the void of space, and the pearls and diamonds that decorated her hair and ears mimicked the stars to a degree of precision that would hypnotise anyone looking at her. Everything, from the perfect curving of her lips to her expensive black dress robes adorned with silver and gold, screamed that she was well aware of her own beauty. And she knew how to exhibit it without seeming arrogant for a second. She was just… Charming. Disarmingly so. 

  
  


-How long has it been?!

  
  


She spoke in long breaths, making single-syllable words sound like they were at least twice as long. It gave her intonation a relaxes tone, as if she had been talking with them for hours already rather than a couple of seconds. The sound of her voice carried wonder and excitement, and she gently put her hands on Newt’s shoulders to kiss his cheeks, rendering him red and speechless. 

  
  


-And who would you be, sir, she asked Credence. 

  
  


Something felt weird, bitter, in Credence’s stomach as she called him “siiir” with her drawling speech. As if she didn't think he deserved the title.

  
  


-Newton, is that who you replaced me with, she laughed. 

  
  


Credence hated that laughter. It was sweet and heavy like honey and it threatened to burn his throat. As Newt stuttered introductions, Credence wondered how much she really knew about him. Not about the Newt she had met and befriended at school, but about the Newt that managed to gain respect and recognition through hard work. Did she know that when she didn’t come to the party for the release of his book, he kept on checking the door for her? Did she know that he still had her picture and never managed to throw it away even as he supposedly moved on? Did she even know anything about Newt that he tried to hide from everyone? That sleeping three nights in a row was his record in the past ten months. That he still felt guilty about their experiment at school that almost got them expelled, and that he cried her name in his sleep, begging her to stop before she endangers someone. That he refused to talk about the war and that it gave him countless nightmares he simply smiled about. That he talked his heart out when he drank too much. About her, about her lips and her skin. And how he knew he could fall in love with men and women alike and how it sometimes terrified him. That he forgot everything come morning but a hangover and a promise never to drink again. Could she ever fathom the anguish that he had to overcome every time a professor asked to meet him in Hogwarts for professional reasons? Did she have any idea of the pain and damage she had caused when she had let him be accused of their wrongdoings before leaving him? 

The Obscurus was swirling in his chest, laughing, hysterical and calling for blood. Credence wasn't sure what Leta Lestrange had awakened in him, but it was taking him all his self-control not to let it explode. 

  
  


-I heard you got engaged, Leta. Congratulations.

  
  


Newt's voice pierced through the blur of his thoughts, bringing Credence back to the scene unfolding before him. 

  
  


-I did. Oh, he’s not you, of course…

  
  


Newt blushed again, hid his face in his hands and let out a small giggle. Credence hated them both at that very second. 

  
  


-I am so sorry I didn’t get the chance to come to the party…

-I understand, dear, you are a very busy man. And it was quite last minute, we did not make things easier for you… But I do want you to be here for my wedding!

-I wouldn’t dream of missing it. I promise I'll be there. I already confirmed it three times with Theseus, too.

-Your dear brother! Is he here already?! I haven't seen him in forever… It must have been at least… Three days? (She laughed.) I have to go fetch him for a dance, he cannot escape me anymore, now! Have a good night, Newton, Mr Barebone.

  
  


Newt smiled until she disappeared from their sight, then Credence felt him relax beside him. 

  
  


-I don't understand, Credence said, and even to his own ears he sounded petulant. 

-Pardon me? 

-Don't you hate her? 

  
  


Newt looked gravely at him. Credence felt like he should maybe apologise. He didn't. He wanted answers. Newt sighed and went to run a hand in his hair. He stopped with his hand mid-air, probably remembering how long it took him to tame his hair it an acceptable appearance earlier that night. He rubbed his neck instead.

  
  


-I do not hate her. Things have changed between us, that is certain, and I will most likely never trust her with anything ever again. But I don't… hate… her.

-She makes you sad. 

  
  


Newt sighed again, then smiled. 

  
  


-Leta makes me… Many things… She did take some bad decisions when we were younger. But she also gave me opportunities. I am quite sure I wouldn't be here without her. Merlin knows where I would be today if it wasn't for Leta…

-So you’re, what… Grateful?

-Merlin, no! And I know there is no possible future where Leta would be a constant part of my life anymore. But… But I do appreciate, for lack of a better word, that what happened, between us I mean, but also at school, it changed me, for the best. Plus I wouldn't have… Err.. I wouldn't have everything that I have today, without her. 

  
  


Credence could understand Newt's reasoning. And after all, shouldn't he relate too? Even if he didn’t feel grateful either, it was undeniable that Grindelwald changed his life for the better. Sure, the man tried to weaponize Credence and his Obscurus, and sure he broke his heart and his dreams, something Credence was still struggling to even accept. But without him, Mary Lou would most likely still be alive. And Credence would still be living with her, in the church. Or maybe he would still have killed her, and his sisters too, this time. He tried very hard not to imagine Modesty’s bloodied corpse lying on the floor. Chastity’s spine broken in a weird angle after the walls and the roof fell onto her. What did Mary Lou look like in death? He couldn’t remember what his Obscurus turned her into. Maybe he should be grateful that Grindelwald entered his life, after all. Without him, he would probably had been executed, or sent to prison by MACUSA.

  
  


Credence felt overwhelmed and dizzy. Saliva was filling his mouth as his jaw started to feel numb and his throat to feel tight. He could feel his heart beating so, so much faster than usual. His hands look weird. Weren't his scars much thinner and faded, usually? Mary Lou hadn't hurt him in a long time. Right?

  
  


-Credence. Credence, look at me.

  
  


Newt’s voice felt far away from him, so tiny in the deafening noise that surrounded him. Was that his heartbeat? His breathing? 

  
  


-Come back with me, Credence. 

  
  


That wasn't something he'd heard Newt say before. Credence blinked once, twice. Five times. Did he leave? He did feel eerie. Light headed. Newt's voice sounded urgent but Credence couldn't figure why, or even bother to  _ wonder _ why. All that he knew was that it was incredibly different from the usual script Newt would follow when talking to him. Talking him down.  And, oh, it had been so long since it last happened. Was it bad that he somehow missed it? It hadn't been good moments per se but it still felt like something special between him and Newt…

  
  


-Credence? Look into my eyes, Credence. Stay with me. I know it's hard right now, but I need you to focus. 

  
  


Focus? On Newt’s eyes? No, that was quite easy actually. 

  
  


-Good boy, you’re doing very well. Breathe now, Credence. 

  
  


The term of endearment threatened to throw him back away again. Oh, how much he wanted to never have heard it before today! Obeying Newt's demands, though, was much easier than thinking. Than remembering. That had been his downfall once already, hadn’t it… Credence let the flow of Newt’s words carry him as he breathed. 

  
  


-Very well, keep on breathing. No, no, keep looking at me. Good. You're doing very well. Stay with me, Credence. 

  
  


Newt was being very careful not to touch him, which, really, Credence thought was a shame. He was, however, keeping eye contact, which was rare. 

Slowly, the world came into focus around Newt's eyes. Credence could notice his freckled face, first. His hair, messy now, proof that whatever happened to Credence mattered more than keeping appearances up…

They were in a hallway, Credence suddenly realised. He couldn't remember leaving the reception room.

  
  


-Well done, Credence. Keep on breathing. 

  
  


He did. He felt his shoulders slump and his fists open as he inhaled and exhaled in rhythm with Newt. When did he tense up that much? He looked around, confused. They were still in the Ministry. Probably. He couldn't remember walking. Did Newt apparate them? 

  
  


-Would you like to sit down, Newt asked softly.

  
  


Credence nodded, and that brought the dizziness back. Stronger than ever. To the point it might be nausea, even. Still without touching him, Newt slowly guided him against a wall and accompanied him onto the floor so that Credence was sitting with his back straight and he was crouching in front of him.

  
  


-Can you talk to me, Credence? 

  
  


Newt’s face had the same expression as when something was wrong but he didn't want his creatures to worry. Should Credence be worried? 

  
  


-Do you need something, Credence? 

  
  


The question felt abstract and complex. What could he possibly need? Warmth. He was so cold. And water too, maybe, as his mouth felt dry. What do you need? He needed Queenie. She would know how he felt without him saying anything, and she would find the right words, the right gestures, to relieve him. Or Tina. She would just sit next to him, take his hand and put her head on his shoulder, and he would still feel like she was the one carrying him. Home. He needed home. 

Newt smiled slowly, sadly. His hands hovered around Credence's face for a second, as if he was going to cup it, before he moved them away quickly.

  
  


-I don't think I should apparate you right now, Credence…

  
  


Why was Newt's voice so calm when his eyes looked so tormented? 

  
  


-Hey, hey, stay with me. 

  
  


Credence noticed he had looked away. He focused back on his breathing, because that did seem to help.

  
  


-You're alright, Newt was saying. But I need you to stay with me for now. Do you think you can do that for me?

  
  


Credence nodded again, only once this time so he wouldn't bring the nausea back. He wasn't sure what Newt meant, but he would do anything for him anyway. His head felt like a giant cotton ball. And he was tired, so tired. A voice in his head was promising him that sleep would help. Credence believed it. That was the kind of this his Obscurus would tell him, too. That didn't come from it thought.

 

Credence jumped back into his skin. The Obscurus was turning wildly, panicked. It never panicked, except when Credence was in lethal danger and it needed to take over. It hadn't panicked in weeks, months, even.

  
  


-Newt, Credence cried out, terrified suddenly.

-I'm here. You’re alright, Credence. Everything's alright.

  
  


Everything was not alright. Far from it. But Newt was now holding Credence's shoulders to stop him from standing up, and the Obscurus was calming down as Credence breathed in the ridiculously expensive cologne Newt was wearing for the reception. Credence forced himself to relax entirely and focused on more positive thoughts to help the Obscurus. He was safe. He was with Newt.

 

His head slumped on the other man’s shoulder and he could very clearly hear the small surprised gasp Newt made. His hair tickled Credence's cheek. A part of Credence, the one he did his best to silence around Newt lest it's scream at any given occasion, was painfully aware of the warmth of Newt's skin just inches from his face. Newt didn't move, didn't embrace him like Credence presently craved, but one of his thumbs started rubbing small circles just next to his clavicle, so, so close to the collar of his robes that Credence's skin almost burnt there.

 

They stayed like this for a while, immobile in the deserted hallway, not really embracing but not letting go either, until Credence's heartbeat settled down. Until he felt grounded enough that facing the rest of the world didn't feel impossible anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been finished for much longer than I'd be willing to admit.. I will try to post the next ones sooner.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please tell me what you thought in the comments. What do you wish/expect for the next chapters?
> 
> Special thanks to Luna who listened to me whine when I hit a writer's block and to Shay for being my first reader and calming my own anxiety! I love you both!!
> 
>  
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @ bluemoon-golden.


	4. A Darker Place Has More Room For Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Credence are busy bees but they still find the time to communicate and learn about themselves and each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from Skin and Bones by Ryan Keen.
> 
> Finally a fluffy chapter. I died to write some fluff! It's one of my favourites so far. Tell me what you thought about it!

**April**

 

Spring was far from being an obvious event in the United Kingdom and in Eastern Europe alike, where Credence and Newt spent most of April. Going back and forth between East and West felt like it should be unsettling, but the mountains and the valleys were too similar to create any kind of dissonance. If anything, it confused Credence even more: it took him far too long in the morning to remember where he was exactly.

 

The most noticeable difference, that he used to find out if he was in Wales, Ukraine or Romania, were the dragons he could see from the windows of the sanctuaries or farms he slept in. And even that wasn't that striking, as they were all sharing the same moody temperament, born from their recent waking up from hibernation, the breeding season they recently entered, and the frequent showers that poured on them from the sky and that they tried to stop by spitting fire at them, creating a fog that blinded them, and accentuated their frustration.

  
  


Dragons seemed to fascinate Newt, who had, during the war, lead them to battles and used them as powerful weapons, but had little knowledge of what wild or semi-wild dragons were like. According to his research, early Spring was the best time to observe those giant lizards and list out their habits and social interactions. He was right, of course, and they spent three weeks gathering notes and walking the large enclosed forests dragon keepers and dragonologists established as dragon territories, hoping to stumble into nests.

They previously had plans to go study Swedish Short-Snouts too, but the cold had not receded enough just yet for the dragons to be found in the mountains where they lived. They still had wanted to go, only to be stopped by a dragonologist in Ukraine who had overheard their planning and asked them if they really had a death wish and if they thought a snowstorm was a good way to go. The double Howlers they somehow received from Tina and Queenie were the last straw for them to cancel their trip.

 

* * *

 

Credence hadn't seen dragons before. The only time he had even heard about them before knowing about the Wizarding world was when he had been taught about Saints’ lives. He remembered Mary Lou talking about Saint Michael the Archangel who slayed one, and being told that the dragon was actually an incarnation of Evil rather than an actual beast. 

 

It turned out that dragons were far less demonic and much more real than he had been led to believe. But they were just as dangerous. Hazards were prone to happen around them, as just the scale of them was enough to make them accidentally murderous. The teeth and claws and fire made sure most of the deaths around them were very much intentional. As happy as Credence was to have the chance to study such fantastic creatures, he was also very careful not to go too close to them. Most of the time. Because Newt's enthusiasm was incredibly contagious, and they would both get wrapped up in intense conversations about the merits of dragon's body parts in potion or wand-making, or about whether the time between an egg being laid and hatching varied more depending on the size or the heat of a specie, and would end up far too close to one of the actual beasts for their own safety. It didn't help either that professor Dumbledore, upon hearing where they went, had asked Newt to send him all sorts of reports and blood samples, as dragon blood was one of his subjects of expertise.

 

* * *

 

Above all, Credence appreciated how much time he got to spend with Newt. After weeks of him being barely more than a shadowy presence in his life - someone he knew existed and saw evidences of but didn't get to interact much with - getting him back felt like a breath of fresh air. No more than a day went without them going trekking in the countryside to see the effects of dragons on the environment around them, or reviewing the notes they had taken before with the pitter-patter of the rain as a lullaby that would pull them into naps in their chairs by a fire on days when the weather was too bad to see anything.

 

* * *

 

April went by quickly, and Credence learned to savour the days where warmth was finally coming back.

 

That afternoon, as the sun just started setting in the distance, he enjoyed being able to feel its rays on his face. Credence and Newt were on the edge of a grass field the local keepers were using to acclimate dragons to human presences. The forest next to it was covered in newly opened flowers and baby leaves that sang about Spring with every gust of wind.

Credence was sitting on the low stone wall that separated the field from the small village of cabins dragon keepers were living in, using the slightly elevated point of view to observe, further in the field, one of the dragons that had quickly become his favourite: a Green Welsh, tiny compared to the giant Ukrainian Ironbellies he had seen a few days before, that had a tendency to light fires at the feet of anyone who dared coming too closely. Discovering that every dragon had its own personality had been cause for surprise and wonder. Credence could almost see himself adopting one. 

Newt was leaning on the wall, next to him, his chin in one hand. The sun was setting his hair ablaze, which really seemed fitting with the creatures in front of them, and distracted Credence, bringing his gaze back to his friend every few seconds. Newt looked tired, the kind of exhaustion that came from short and restless nights, but his face was relaxed and he was smiling almost imperceptibly. Credence doubted that anyone else could notice how serene Newt was at that moment and it made his heart flutter a bit to be able to witness it. 

 

-How are you, Newt asked while turning towards Credence, not seeming to notice that Credence had been staring at him.

 

The question wasn't a surprise anymore. As a matter of fact, it had become sort of a routine after the incident at the Ministry, a way of keeping Credence in check, and making sure he wasn't going to let his Obscurus out again when he didn't mean to.

 

The realisation of what had almost happened had crushed him, hours after they had managed to go back home. He had almost released his Obscurus in the middle of a room full of people, in a government building with that. Considering the state of distress he was in at the time, he could have attacked someone. Killed someone. Leta Lestrange, maybe. Or even Newt. The perspective had started a lot of conversations that ended in guilty silences and a desire to make promises that couldn't be kept. 

It had, however, prompted Credence into deciding that if he was to live with his Obscurus forever, he couldn't keep living that way, in an uncomfortable cohabitation. He'd better learn to make peace with both the situation and the Obscurus rather than just letting this dangerous status quo continue. 

 

Credence grinned at Newt and extended his arm as far from both of them as he could , hiding the sun behind his palm. Learning about the Obscurus with Newt wasn't the same thing as learning to live with it, he had finally understood. And  _ this _ was something he had to learn on his own. Careful but resolute, he let down of the doors and walls and fences - his brain and his chest and his heart - that he used to keep the Obscurus behind for years. 

His hand slowly changed. At first, it looked like black steam was elevating from it, as if he had poured hot water on it and the light was just a bit wrong. It didn't take long for the shape of his hand to blur out of sight. The vapor turned into smoke, thick and swirling, under the sleeve of his shirt and where flesh and bones used to be. 

Credence turned to look at Newt. His hearing was now enhanced enough that he could hear the discrete surprised whistling breath that Newt took in. The Obscurus messed with his senses, even when Credence was still conscious of the changes, he had discovered. Since it was made of magic and Credence’s dissolved being, it couldn't comprehend touch the same way he did, and taste was an entire foreign language. It was also basically blind, relying on sounds and air deplacements to perceive what was around, rather than its small tunnel vision. Credence hadn't tried letting the Obscurus out entirely just yet. He was good enough with giving it access to only one or two of his limbs , and his senses, for now. He didn't feel calm enough to give it a complete freedom at the moment. And he knew far too well the result of mixing his fears with the Obscurus.

Newt's reaction to Credence “transforming” into his Obscurus was something that always amused Credence. Newt had explained that his eyes would turn white - not rolling upwards but not fully human anymore either - anytime Credence let the reins off his Obscurus, even just a little bit. Yet, despite knowing that, Newt didn't seem to be able to get used to it. Credence let a high laugh out. Happy. 

He blinked a few times and the Obscurus retreated peacefully to its domains, deep inside him. 

 

-I'm good. 

 

Newt snorted:

 

-Obviously.

 

Newt let a few second go, contemplating how to word his thoughts.

 

-Say, Credence. I have never asked you that but. It doesn't… (His face contorted into a concerned grimace.) Hurt you… Does it?

-Not really. It's strange. It doesn't feel like anything else. It feels like… Nothing, I guess.

-Nothing?

 

Newt's expression reflected his interest and Credence could tell he was struggling to stay quiet and stop himself from asking the thousand questions that were popping in his head. 

 

-I cannot feel anything but at the same time, I feel a lot…

 

Credence let his hand fall on the wall, next to his thigh. They both looked at it pensively for a few minutes. Sensations were coming back into it, and Credence could vaguely feel the texture of the stones against his skin. 

Newt took his hand gently, raising it to his eye level, turning it to see the back and the palm alternatingly. Credence had to stop himself from caving in when his stomach contracted brutally at the gesture. His heart was in his throat, beating far too quickly and strongly. Newt's fingertips left burning traces where they pressed, not matter how delicate he was, the warmth of his skin so different from the coldness that came from the temporary absence of blood. Or blood vessels. Newt grabbed Credence’s wrist with one hand and moved Credence’s fingers with the other. Credence’s heart was now doing somersaults at each touch. His face was burning hot and his mouth dry. Part of him wanted to run away but he wasn't sure his legs could support the weight of him right now.

 

-It really looked like your hand disintegrated, Newt said.

 

Credence only managed to hum in answer, not trusting his voice to try using real words.

 

-Do you think it has been replaced? Is it like apparition, where your body moves somewhere else? I am asking that because apparition breaks you down to some degree, that's how splitting happens: your body is broken down and your focus is what brings it back together. No, apparition has your entire body moves from one place to another. Here, it seems like your body was changing. Transfiguration, maybe? So was it you entirely? Is it like being an Animagus? If you were to separate the part that changes from the rest of you, do you think your hand would regenerate? I think it happened once already. That would go with the theory that it's a new hand that you have here. Maybe it's the memory of your hand?

-You know I'm not letting you put my hand in a jar just for a test, right.

 

Credence's tone was gently mocking. Newt's flow of consciousness gave him his voice back.

 

-I was not… Going to… Of course, Newt deflated.

 

He was blushing brightly and avoiding looking towards Credence. He definitely had been considering it. Credence rolled his eyes and shook his head, more amused than annoyed, though. Newt had a lot of hazardous ideas that, luckily, never saw the light of day as common sense always caught up to him in time. Or Credence vetoed them. Whatever happened first.

 

A flash of light in the distance caught their attention. One of the dragons had decided to stop cooperating with the keepers for the day and was trying to melt down the chain that kept it on the ground. They watched the example of strength and magic unfolding before them for a moment, both engrossed in the incredible spectacle they knew only a few people had the chance to ever witness. It was in times like this one that Credence could understand Newt's devotion to his work. When you got to see the magnificence of a dragon's breath in the sunset, or to touch the delicate fur of a newborn unicorn, or to wake up to a demiguise snuggled up at your feet, there was no coming back.

 

Credence tore his gaze away to look at Newt. He was still enraptured in the scene, not even blinking in fear he might miss or forget something. His lips had parted slightly around a word just before his attention got caught and Credence had to make a conscious effort not to look at Newt's mouth for too long.

One of Newt's hands was still holding Credence's wrist, and he had laced their fingers together with the other. Credence could feel the warmth of Newt's hands radiating in his own arm, going deep in his stomach. Newt didn't seem to want to let go anytime soon. Neither did Credence.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave a kudo or a comment, they remind me that I should update the fic instead of simply writing it...
> 
>  
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @bluemoon-golden.


	5. A Friend In Need's A Friend Indeed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence discovers that Hogwarts is like lemon sherbert: sweet and cooling but that can also turn quite sour quite quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments on the previous chapters, especially in the past two months. I plan on writing, I plan on publishing and then I don't. But you guys keep reminding me that this story exists and is read so I won't forget!
> 
> The title is from Pure Morning by Placebo.

 

**May**

  
  


Credence gorged himself in the afternoon sun.

 

May had been gentle with them that year, and the Scottish countryside was a far better place to enjoy it than dirty old London. Newt and him had put their travellings and research on dragons on hold for a few days, in order for Newt to come to Hogwarts and present a summary of his work so far to the Sixth and Seventh Year students. Freed from the stress of their exams, the teenagers didn't seem to resent the additional lessons too much. The fact that they were held outside rather than in a classroom, and that they didn't have to take any notes, nor fear an eventual grade, probably helped putting them in good dispositions.

Newt seemed in his element, standing straight and speaking fast and with great details about the creatures he had encountered. They had brought charts and sketches of grindilows, pitiponks, and other creatures that the students were likely to face at least once in their lives. Disorganised notes now covered the floating blackboard Credence had charmed into existence. Newt had decided to dedicate this afternoon to the creatures the students were living near to without necessarily knowing about it. Which is why they were now exchanging about merpeople and centaurs and the etiquette to follow to interact with them respectfully.

  
  


When they were preparing Newt's lessons, Credence had been more interested in learning about the thestrals that pulled the carriages for the school, but they had agreed that they were a bit too sombre a subject for the teenagers and should only be quickly evocated rather than thoroughly studied. They also chose not to say a word about Obscurials, for obvious reasons.

Most of the students seemed to be liking the unusual lessons, and even the least interested ones were still entertained by Newt's antics and ramblings.

  
  


Credence didn't have much to do. Earlier, he had been charged to keep an attentive eye on the Niffler, that they had brought as a mascot and a practical activity (the students had been encouraged to hide a few golden coins; to their delight, the Niffler had been able to find them, no matter how cleverly they were hidden), to make sure it wouldn't attack someone to try and steal their pocket money. It was more babysitting than magizoology at this point, but now it was nice to have what felt like a day off, to relax, away from the dangers that were inevitably paired with studying dragons.

That thought brought Tina to Credence’s mind. She was still in Europe, somewhere, investigating on Grindelwald. He wished she could be there today too. She probably didn't see the sun half as much as she needed to. He would have loved to visit the castle with her, and to listen to her compare everything to her own school, and tell him a thousand times how much better her school was. Credence smiled a bit at that. His mind turned to Queenie, and about her latest letter, that he had received the day before. He was still to answer her, to congratulate her on finding her Jacob again. She had finally gathered the courage to go into his shop, after months of wondering if it was a good idea at all. According to what she had written, everything had turned out alright. Jacob still didn't remember her, but she was very optimistic: his bakery was renowned for the creative shapes of the goods sold there. They supposedly came out of his dreams. “He thought I did too,” she had written, and the ink had translated the slight trembling of her hand…

  
  


-And why are _you_ here, sir?

  
  


The teenager, long and thin like a reed, who had interrupted Credence's train of thoughts was pointedly looking at him. It was true that he had only told them his name. So now, Credence had no idea what he was supposed to answer. He was Newt's… assistant? Student? Friend? Of course, they were friends. And sure they did work together, he even had a fancy parchment with the Ministry's seal proving just that. He was also one of Newt's subjects of study,  technically…

  
  


-I'm… Err…

-Mr Barebone is here to make sure I work efficiently. And that no notable accident were to happen, Newt intervened, stepping next to Credence with a sheepish smile. Including my own… demise.

-It's more difficult than it sounds, Credence heard himself saying.

  
  


A few laughs rose from the group of teenagers, but Credence was more amused by the teachers a few feet away who nodded a bit too knowingly.

  
  


-What was your House, another kid asked.

  
  


It took Credence an couple seconds to understand that this question was for him too, as Newt was proudly wearing his Hufflepuff colours: despite the warmth and humidity in the air, he was still wearing his school scarf. It didn't really go well with the shirt which sleeves he had rolled up, and the hazardously buttoned vest he had put on that morning, and he was probably overheating slightly, as clued by the pink tint of his cheeks, but the smiles on the Hufflepuff students’ faces when they first saw the discoloured scarf were worth it. Credence himself was also wearing Muggle clothes, as they were ultimately more comfortable and practical than the robes almost everyone else was wearing. His lack of House colours, though, was blaring.

  
  


-I was, err, I was homeschooled, Credence muttered.

  
  


Newt bumped his shoulder with Credence at that. It was a half-lie, and one that Credence had already used before, but he appreciated the support nonetheless.

Maybe his answer was enough, or maybe his accent came out particularly strongly and discouraged the students from asking him anything else, but their attention shifted off him after that, and back to Newt who had started speaking again - and missed hitting Credence in the face a couple times with how close he was standing and how energetically he was talking. Credence didn't move, though. His heart was beating too fast, from having been at the centre of attention, for him to walk away and take the risk to attract everyone's gaze on him again. Newt's warmth next to him, familiar and comforting, also helped him breathe somewhat normally.

  
  


-And now, Newt exclaimed and clapped his hands.

  
  


Credence jumped a bit at that, instantly hoping that Newt's enthusiasm didn't mean trouble.

  
  


-Your esteemed headmaster and I have been negotiating the introduction of a new specie on the school's grounds for a couple months now. I rescued it a while ago and I was looking for a foster home since then. If you would like to join me by the Great Lake, please…

  
  


Credence let out a sigh. Right. That was planned. He closed his eyes. He was still a bit too on edge. Everything was alright. He really needed to relax.

  
  


-Credence?

  
  


He opened his eyes again. The students had dispersed into small groups and were now walking away. Newt's face was inches away from his; their eyes met. Newt looked away. Credence's gaze fell on the Lake he could see shining in the distance.

  
  


-I am going to see the students by the Lake. Do you want to come with me?

  
  


His voice was drastically softer than the professorial tone he used earlier. Credence thought that it suited him better, but maybe that was because he was the only one who go to hear it.

  
  


-I'm good, Credence answered. I think I'll take professor Dumbledore’s offer and go get some tea with him.

  
  


Newt nodded, slowly. His smile was a bit too tight, probably at the idea of all the work he still had to do that day. Credence felt a bit bad for leaving him behind, but Newt was the main attraction and Credence was growing nervous around all those people he didn't know how to talk to.

  
  


-I will see you later, then, Newt said.

  
  


They stayed immobile in each other's space for another few seconds, before Newt squeezed Credence's fingers and left. Only then did Credence notice that they had been holding hands the whole time.

 

 

* * *

 

It wasn't like holding hands had become a habit, exactly. It was just something they did, now, sometimes. It had started with Newt reaching for Credence's hand whenever he had been training with his Obscurus. For some reason, Newt could always tell. Every time had Credence blushing - he had gotten used to the feeling of his face burning up, after a while - but giving his hand anyway. Sometimes, Newt examined it and asked questions about Credence's progress, but mostly he just held it until the numbness disappeared completely. It was overwhelming, that first sensation of Newt's skin against his after not having been able to feel anything at all, intoxicating and addicting too.

After a while, they had started just _touching_ more. It was very innocent, really: the patting of a shoulder when walking by, putting a hand between shoulder blades when they both entered a room, or sitting close enough that their thighs would touch. It was innocent, but it still made Credence's heart flutter and beat far too quickly. It also made him want so much more. It made him crave Newt's touch and presence, constantly and frustratingly so.

  
  


* * *

 

Professor Dumbledore’s office was quite easy to find, even for Credence who had never set foot at Hogwarts before. It was situated on the first-floor corridor, between an empty classroom and a staircase. The door was the same as every other in the corridor, save for a small metal plaque which announced the owner of the office. Credence knocked. He entered when asked to.

 

The room was small, which surprised Credence: Dumbledore was a tall and impressive man, so Credence had expected his work space to reflect that. The room was made even smaller by a large fireplace and trinkets on every possible surface, including the stone window sills. One of the walls disappeared completely behind shelves full of books which titles Credence couldn't all read,  but seemed to mostly refer to Transfiguration. It was a subject Credence excelled in but had troubles getting used to: it just felt too unnatural, too magical even, to have one thing turned into another.

Dumbledore was sitting at a wooden desk that faced the fireplace. He gestured towards the chair in front of him and Credence sat down.

  
  


-Thank you for having me.

-It is my pleasure, Dumbledore assured him.  I imagine that Mr Scamander’s lesson might be, how to say, a bit too repetitive for you.

-Well,I did read the lesson plan a few times, Credence moderated.

  
  


He didn't want to badmouth about Newt, even if it was true that he did know everything by heart now. Professor Dumbledore seemed to understand that; his eyes twinkled behind his half-moon glasses when he smiled.

  
  


-Tell me, Mr Barebone, what do you think of Britain?

  
  


* * *

 

Dumbledore had good conversation and was of good company. As he'd told Credence, he eventually conjured a tray with a couple teacups, a steaming teapot and a plate of small biscuits. When he saw Credence's surprise, he started explaining the Hogwarts kitchens and the house elves working there. He was attentive to Credence's reactions and didn't mind expanding on subjects he could see interested him. Truth be told, Credence found him rather charming.

No matter how impolite, though, Credence couldn't help but get distracted by the windows to his left. From the office, they were overlooking parts of the school grounds, including a sports field. Credence guessed it was for Quidditch. More or less consciously, he kept looking for Newt. He caught himself feeling annoyed that he couldn't see him from there, despite knowing that his lesson was taking place at the complete opposite side of the castle.

  
  


-Isn't the view lovely, Dumbledore asked when Credence took a bit too long to look away.

-Right.

  
  


Embarrassment twisted his stomach and burnt at his cheekbones. He cleared this throat before turning his attention back to his interlocutor.

  
  


-Oh, don't worry. I get easily lost in the view too: you cannot imagine how many assignments got handed back later than I planned, just because I tried to correct them from here.

  
  


They shared a small chuckle and fell silent, both watching outside. Credence felt comfortable here. He understood why Newt took this opportunity to come back. He wished his childhood and adolescence had been spent there too. Which House would he have been sent to? Which subjects would he have had good grades in? Could he have stayed awake during the infamous professor Binns’ classes that Newt had told him about? Credence took the decision to ask Newt to tell him more stories about this place. He never felt like he could before, since it was something he imagined was too personal, but maybe Newt would actually like sharing some of his memories? After all, he had asked Credence to accompany him right after he got the owl about giving lessons. And maybe he wouldn't care too much if Credence didn't feel like reciprocating just yet?

 

Dumbledore turned towards Credence. His cup made a tinkling noise when he put it down on the saucer. The white porcelain set was decorated with small blue flowers. Credence thought that there had been very similar ones in the suitcase, though he was almost sure they all shattered beyond repair one after the other and had ended up being replaced with ones with obnoxious bright pink roses on a yellow background that Newt had found Merlin knew where.

  
  


-I am afraid, Credence, that my invitation was not without ulterior motivations, and I hope you can forgive me for that.

  
  


Credence frowned, a bit uneasy. He didn't know how to answer that.

  
  


-You see, I have been informed of your, let's say misfortunes, in New York, last year.

  
  


Credence felt all the blood leave his face. Who could have spoken about what happened? And what did this man know? Did he know about the Obscurus?

  
  


-I am not sure I understand, Credence said carefully, in a flat tone.

  
  


Dumbledore's lips curled in a small, knowing smile at that. Credence could feel the Obscurus come a bit too close to the surface and pushed it back. Not now.

  
  


-I have heard, Dumbledore explained while joining his hands in front of him on the desk, about your unfortunate encounter, with a certain dark wizard.

  
  


Credence's hand twitched. Not yet.

  
  


-You cannot ignore that he is still at large, and that the Aurors from, not one, but two continents are looking for him. If you know something, anything, I would be very grateful to get this information. Of course, I would not mention your name to the Aurors, if this is your wish.

-If you're talking about Grindelwald… I can't help you. Sorry.

  
  


The name felt sour in his mouth. Credence's voice sounded strained, and a bit like a lie.

  
  


-Then, would you mind telling me why he approached you in the first place?

  
  


The professor sounded irritated, as if Credence hadn't given the right answer to a question which solution had been on a blackboard in front of him. Credence tensed, every muscle in his body focused on keeping his anxiety, and the Obscurus, at bay.

  
  


-I guess he discovered that I didn't have a good knowledge about magic and decided he could use that against the government?

  
  


This was a blatant lie, but it came out far more naturally than the truth had. The initial shock was melting away, leaving only a bitter taste in its wake. He didn't want to think about _him_. Ever. His subconscious forcing him to see _him_ in his dreams was something he could only lose his fight against. This man was not.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, like a king in his throne. His bright eyes were scanning Credence in a way that made the Obscurus struggle to get out again. Not now. Not yet. Dumbledore hummed.

  
  


-That's strange. I have met him in the past, Credence, and he never does anything for vague reasons. If he got close to you, I am sure that you have abilities that can interest him. Do you have any idea what they could be?

-No, sir.

  
  


Credence wanted to throw up. He remembered hands on his hands, hands on his face, lips against his ear, arms around him, “good boy's” and “sir’s” and feelings he spent entire nights being ashamed of, and that he knew Mary Lou would punish him for.

  
  


-We need all the help we can get, you know. I have no doubt he is gathering forces all across Europe, and if he was in America, he probably has more over there. It is our duty to prepare to fight back with everything we have, your duty as well.

  
  


Credence didn't answer. He didn't want to. Not yet. Not now. But soon, maybe.

  
  


-Credence, Dumbledore started and it sounded like a threat.

  
  


But he interrupted himself to turn his head and look at the door. A second later, a knock could be heard in the office.

  
  


-Come in, Dumbledore sighed.

  
  


He seemed defeated suddenly and almost slipped in his chair. Credence heard the door open and steps walk in but refused to look away from Dumbledore in fear he'd let the Obscurus out. Relief flushed over him when he recognised Newt's voice:

  
  


-Good afternoon, professor. How are you? I am truly sorry, but my assistant and I need to leave now if we want to be ready for tomorrow's classes.

  
  


Newt grabbed at Credence's shoulder and immediately led him up and towards the exit. Credence could hear him address a few more words to his former teacher as they crossed the threshold but didn't judge it necessary to register them. All he could focus on was the tip of Newt's fingers and his nails, white with pressure against Credence's dark cardigan.

Credence only started relaxing when he felt the breeze on his face as they reached the entrance doors. Newt hadn't let go of his shoulder; that helped Credence walk as effectively as if he had been carrying him.

  
  


-Are you alright, Newt asked.

  
  


Credence looked at him. He was frowning, but he looked furious rather than worried, which reflected perfectly Credence's own feelings. Now that he was out of the office, he realised that he had been more stunned than scared. No matter how threatening Dumbledore had been, Credence was confident that the older man wouldn't have managed to hurt him if he had tried.

  
  


-Yes.

  
  


The simple word had Newt nodding and letting go of Credence. They kept walking, a bit too fast to be natural.

  
  


-How did you know, Credence eventually asked.

-A hunch.

  
  


Newt shrugged, but Credence caught his sleeve and tugged at it to encourage him to extrapolate. Newt caved in, if anything so that Credence would stop stumbling every few steps on the uneven ground.

  
  


-I saw how he was looking at you earlier. At first I couldn't remember where I'd seen this expression. (Newt sighed angrily, licked his lips and waved his free arm around.) It was during the war. Graded officers would look at us like that, like we were nothing but assets and weapons. So I knew I had to get you out.

  
  


The idea that Newt had watched Credence long enough to notice that someone else was analysing him counterbalanced the upsetting revelation.

  
  


-If I had remembered earlier, I would have told you not to go. Or at least I could have warned you…

-It's okay.

  
  


Credence tried to smile, but the truth was that he still had to contain himself not to let his own anger spill everywhere. Newt nodded, disbelieving but trusting. He slowed down his steps and took Credence's hand that had been holding his sleeve in his.

  
  


-I understand if you do not want to come back tomorrow…

-I am not letting Dumbledore spoil this place.  I like it here.

-Me too. It used to be my home.

  
  


Newt's smile was brighter than the May sun and his hold on Credence's hand softer than the breeze.

  
  


* * *

 

Later that evening, when Credence was changing into his night clothes, he noticed five small round bruises surrounding his shoulder, proof of Newt's fury and concern.

  
  


Later that night, when Credence slept, he dreamed of Newt leaving many, many more small round bruises all over him, using his fingers and his mouth.

  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading what is one of my favourite chapters so far. If the last lines made you scream/laugh like it did AlxSteele, please do tell me.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @bluemoon-golden. Come say hi!  
> See you (hopefully) very soon!

**Author's Note:**

> There should be at least 12 chapters, one for a significant event of each month of a year. Chapters 2 and 3 are almost finished but I haven't decided on a posting schedule just yet so watch this space!
> 
> As always thank you so much for reading! You can find me on tumblr @bluemoon-golden if you ever wanna chat or try to get a preview of next chapters..
> 
> (Ps: I only have a phone to work on this story at the moment so more typos than usual might still be hiding here and there. I apologise if it's the case!! Please do notify me if you find some!)


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